Moving Woe’s
After reading Eisha’s post about her recent move, I am even more determined not to move out of this house during my current upheavals. Let me share the story of my nightmare move in 1989.
First, I was still pregnant the week before the move. That isn’t really the beginning of the story, but it makes it more quizzical. I was due July 15th. July 1st they were sure I’d deliver #1 son. Nope. August 1st still no son. So, I finish my comps, I waddle through graduation gaining a pound of water a day and wearing flipflops on my feet on Friday. Wed. we induce because I announce to the doctor I’m moving come hell or high water so they’d better deliver that baby. Friday AUGUST 11th the baby is born. Sat. we leave the hospital. Sunday we go back to the hospital with me reacting to measles vaccine and bloodloss and baby in distress. Monday we leave the hospital. Tuesday we pack the moving truck with friends of ours driving the truck while hubby, baby, dog, and I drive from Iowa City to Chicago. Hubby gets ill on trip so I have to drive (yes, that is a no-no). We get separated from friends when Uhaul truck breaks down. We show up at apartment house to move into ground floor apartment, but there had been an electrical fire so no apt. ready. They decide to give us third floor apt. but that roof had fallen in and they weren’t done repairing it. No friends. No furniture. No funds. Apt. house sends us to a hotel for the night. Next day friends and truck show up, but they can’t help us carry stuff upstairs because they are late so they dump it all on the yard. I sit on mattress and cry because I can’t help carry anything from the severe hemoraging and blood loss I’d undergone. Thursday get into apt. and gradually carry everything upstairs. Friday begin work by going in to first teaching position as a librarian in Chicago. Have to carry ring filled with ice to sit on because not medically cleared for work, but no funds if not working. Hubby stays home and takes care of #1 son for two months.
HOW do we do this stuff? I kept telling myself about those women who delivered babies in the fields/forest/wars and then got up and carried them to safety.
As I look around the house, I cannot bear to move again. I have now spent ten years in one location after moving constantly for first marriage and second marriage to military man. I pity everyone who is moving this summer. I think I’ll just sit here and remember how terrible it can be.
